Fracture
by verbaltics
Summary: Ringo isn't sure when she begins to realize her soul is fracturing, and she isn't sure why it is. But she has a feeling that finding solace in what she has forced herself to do isn't enough for her anymore. Ringo/Shoma


She isn't sure when she begins to realize her soul is fracturing.

It's ripping, tearing, burning. The pieces are falling into a pit in her stomach, where they remain unwanted, safe from her touch. But this cracking creates an almost pleasurable feeling in her, like the feeling she had when her family was together.

The difference is though, she knows this feeling was caused by something wholly _wrong_.

She knows that some part of her, a part that's growing in size every single day, is rejecting the destiny she's resigned to, nay, _supposed _to follow.

She tries to crush that part of her that wants to rebel. But it's like David to Goliath – except that Goliath crushes David like a bug under his big, round foot. The feeling of Shoma's delicate, almost womanlike hand in hers earlier that day had made sure of the giant's victory.

So, because she can't eradicate it completely, she decides to try to compartmentalize it inside herself. Put it in a little box, wrap it up neatly, and ship it off to an assigned corner in her stomach where it will never be touched again.

But god, it was _soft_.Delicate, too, like it had never done a day's hard work in its life. Yet, her hand was callused, her fingernails and the skin around them jagged and uneven from her nervous biting habit. She always knew it was an unsightly practice, but suddenly she was aware her fingers were _ugly_, and from that who was to say her touch itself wasn't repulsive to him?

That feeling crept up again.

Maybe if she can just...let it rot. Fester inside her. It won't go away, she knows it, but god, maybe just let it be smaller? Just let it fold in on itself, maybe just let this pain be less than it is -

The pain doesn't lessen. The pain doesn't go away. The pain isn't restricted to one part of her. And she hates him for a moment. She hates him for ruining her plans, for ensuring that her family will never be whole.

But the moment passes and she realizes it isn't his fault. He certainly didn't cause this; he had kept her at arm's length for the longest time. And so, with that little comfort, she begins to search the sea of her soul again.

Maybe she had to get back to the beginning to fix it. She can't blame him, and she can't erase things the way they are now. Maybe if she realizes the cause she can turn the tide?

So really, when _did_ her soul first begin to crack? When she first noticed that sullen, exasperated look of his had a certain charm to it? The way his eyes filled with ugly pity when he saw her follow Tabuki? The way he regarded her as some escaped mental patient? The way he hesitated to touch her for fear that she would lash out, like she was some sort of loose cannon?

It was almost laughable. In fact, it _was _laughable.

Ugh, then again, she would probably never know when it started. And did it even matter if she did? She didn't think so, now that she had ruminated over it and realized any hope of pinpointing the start was hopeless.

All that mattered was that it _had_ started, and when it had, she couldn't stop it. It was a destroyer, a wrecking ball for a goddamn wreck. It gained power with every passing moment, sundered all in front of it, and all it could cause was unmitigated chaos.

And she realized she knew _it_, of course. What she felt for the other one – that prince, her supposed beloved, her Tabuki, was not the same as what she felt for _him_. The emotion wasn't as fierce and it didn't absolutely turn everything to cinders inside her stomach. It didn't threaten to engulf her with every breath she took and make her want to regret every choice she's made and regret even trying to fix her fractured family in the first place.

Her soul didn't fracture at all the whole time when she tried to love Tabuki.

And as this hits her as she lies in bed trying unsuccessfully, furtively, to get some sleep, the weight of the realization bearing down on her head; the rest of her soul begins to crack as scenes flash before her as if they were part of some sort of demented montage.

A lingered look he gave her flashes in her mind's eye. For some reason she notices the curve of his neck, and the gentle way a curl in his hair rests on it.

Then she sees the way he smiles at her one day, his usual look of disgust and slight terror replaced by something actually warm and tender and human and somehow _him_.

And she sees herself as if she were having an out of body experience. The other Ringo is sitting on a park bench, head in the clouds, and is suddenly shaken from her reverie by remembering she has tasks to complete for the day. But she doesn't want to get up. So she hesitates, contemplates skipping the task entirely, stops herself, shudders, and then crushes her thoughts of rebellion with sheer will. She gets up from her bench and does what needs to be done.

Then, she's reminded of the way he appears in her dreams, an unwanted intruder. Tabuki never has appeared in her dreams. And the other one, the one that isn't her prince, does things in those dreams that she knows Tabuki never will.

Finally, all that she knows of herself is her ragged breathing as she shakes herself awake from that nightmare of a realization. She gives in to the knowledge that something isn't right in her, that something needs to be fixed.

Momoka's feelings aren't hers. She knows this now. Hell, she knew it before. But she still wants to repair her family. They want Momoka, everyone wants Momoka, no one wants her! So god, all she needs to to is look inside herself, put her soul back together and _become _ Momoka-

But how can she when all she wants is to scream out Shoma's name, to hold him tightly, to feel his slender fingers graze her cheek, to heave a sigh as the warm longing for the one she loves burns her inside out and envelops her in flame?

The wrong person.

The entirely wrong person.

So she backtracks again. Why can't she just transfer it? Just think that way about Tabuki? Or try crushing it once more, maybe she just wasn't trying hard enough-

Of course it doesn't work. It refuses to be crushed, and Goliath grows in size.

She knows what she has done. This isn't fate. She caused this somehow. This is some sort of trick. Couldn't she just transfer her feelings to the other? Make the diary fruition? Finally give in?

But she knows she can't. No matter how hard she tries. This is the fate she is resigned to - and she feels like she has been spat out, told she is not good enough to be the one she strives to be, and that she will never be what she longs.

But as she thinks of him and feels the warmness struggling inside her stomach, that fire and with it, the madness that she knows will one day envelop her because nothing could come of this love and she knows it.

But, little by little, she resigns herself to this new destiny.

She knows that there are only a few pieces left to crack from her soul and fall. And she smiles a little at that thought.

Nothing will ever come of this. _Nothing will ever come of this. _But she'll take his burdens if she can. His punishment will be hers as well. He will never be as alone as she is now.

Her soul may be fractured completely, but damned if the pieces aren't all still there. Pieces that can form something new - who says they have to form the same pattern? Their jagged edges aren't set, they're moldable, fixable. They aren't glass. They're something else, something new entirely. Something entirely hers.

And that fact, for now, is enough for her.


End file.
